


Run me 'til I can't go further

by Lutelyre



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Miroku (InuYasha), Choking, Cock Tease, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, I don't even usually ship these two or write only PWP, Inuvember, Inuyasha is down for it, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild S&M, Miroku is needy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, what is happening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22625311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lutelyre/pseuds/Lutelyre
Summary: “Dirty mouth, monk,” Inuyasha drawls softly.
Relationships: InuYasha/Miroku (InuYasha)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	Run me 'til I can't go further

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm back with a snippet of porn! Happy early Valentine's Day!
> 
> idk I blame the fact that I'm rewatching Inuyasha and it's SO GOOD so I need to blow off fic-steam. This fic was also VERY influenced by Blackkat's fanfic "Full Marks" which is Kakashi/Genma from Naruto and PURE GOLD. Please, go read (it's on Ao3).
> 
> I'm still working on everything else (Brightness, Things You Said, etc)...but tbh it's going slowly because writing plot along with a full workday is hard. I'm still posting random inspo on tumbles, and I promise to be back soon!

“Oh _fuck_ , Inuyasha.”

Miroku leans in from where he’s crouched on his knees, hands bound tight behind his back by prayer beads. 

“Keh,” Inuyasha snorts dismissively, standing above him. One forearm braces him against the trunk of the sweeping willow tree Miroku is kneeling under like an offering, his other hand is curled loosely around his cock, hard and thick between his legs. The folds of fire-rat hakama pool on his thighs, burnished bloody-red in the dusky half-light.

“Dirty mouth, monk,” he drawls softly. He angles his hips a bit closer to Miroku’s face, and the man under him presses forward again, struggling to keep his balance. “You never swear. What would the girls say?”

Miroku tosses his head back, chin sharp and face flushed. A string of spit dangles from his lower lip, like a tease. 

“Too shocked to say much, probably.” He bites his lip and meets Inuyasha’s gaze like a dare, as cheekily remorseless as earlier that evening, when Sango landed a blistering slap to his face for getting a bit handsy. “What’re _you_ going to do about it?”

“Hmm, don’t know yet,” says Inuyasha carelessly. He sounds casual, as if they were only discussing the weather, or who had next watch around the fire. “Should I do anythin’?” 

He shifts forward again, his cock brushing against Miroku’s cheek like an invitation, and Miroku turns his head eagerly to suckle it like one of those lolli’s Kagome brings from her time, his tongue flicking the tip and swirling, soft and hot and suddenly Inuyasha can think of things he can do with that mouth, things to make it filthy and keep it that way.

He slides his hand roughly down the tree to fist in Miroku’s hair, pulls away from Miroku’s lips with a wet _pop_. He holds carefully still for an achingly long beat, the head of his cock ever so slightly bumping the supple curve of Miroku’s lip, teasing. Miroku reaches for him, gasping, but Inuyasha holds his head tightly to the tree, bark crumbling as he scrambles against it, his neck straining forward.

A pearlescent drop beads the tip of Inuyasha’s cock, dabs against Miroku’s upper lip and stretches with obscene slowness down over his open, panting mouth.

Miroku fucking _moans,_ long and low.

Pleased, Inuyasha blinks lazily above him and draws away to slap Miroku’s cheek with his dick instead, smearing fluid like a stain. Miroku makes a sound almost like a whine in his throat, cracking at the end. 

His pulse is jumping like a wild rabbit, scent so thick with lust Inuyasha can smell it heavy in the air, hanging like a demon’s miasma. He breathes deeply.

“Did you want me to do somethin’ about it?”

Miroku’s hands fist spastically in their bindings, knees spreading wide in the dirt and hips jerking forward, shaking. His eyes narrow, dark in the long shadows around them, and he makes a tight, annoyed noise that only widens Inuyasha’s fanged grin. 

“Goddamnit, I _want_ you to fuck my throat, you asshol— _mmffph_!”

Inuyasha cuts him off, abruptly snapping his hips forward to slide in to the fucking hilt and stalling there, tight and wet and _shit_ , but Miroku knew how to take a dick, huh? His eyes water from the pressure, throat convulsing, but he’s already moaning again, the sound vibrating straight up Inuyasha’s dick, heady, rough and _shattered,_ like all Miroku needed was for Inuyasha to thrust again and he’d lose it, he’d come right there. 

Inuyasha rolls his hips a bit just to be a fucking bully, watching the bulge of his cock move deeper down Miroku’s throat. Miroku’s adam’s apple bobs as he opens his mouth impossibly wider, takes him in further, short breaths puffing from his nose onto the hard, shivering plane of Inuyasha’s skin. 

“ _Ah—_ you tryin’ to impress me?”

Miroku’s long lashes flutter, saliva slipping down his chin. His tongue flattens up along the underside of Inuyasha’s dick with a swift push. Inuyasha swears, pulls halfway out and slides in again, deeper than before, quick and sharp, making Miroku jerk against the hold pinning him to the tree trunk.

Inuyasha groans under his breath, pulls away from Miroku’s lips completely and moves his hand from Miroku’s head to his throat, moving to crouch in front of the other man so the sweep of his hair falls like a silk-screen curtain over them both, gilded eyes flickering in the dim light.

“All ya had to do was ask, Miroku.”

Miroku’s lips are puffy and dripping. His eyes look shot to hell, dazed and red-rimmed and tracking Inuyasha’s every move like a clock. He smiles widely, still insolent even on his knees, his voice raw and strained but still so damn eager. 

“Well, I’m fucking begging for it.” 

Inuyasha laughs a bit more like a growl and squeezes his hand around Miroku’s throat until the other man gags, gasping like he loves it, like he needs it, hips bucking forward. Inuyasha has to steady his nose against the fresh spike of _want_ drenching the air, so thick he almost chokes on it himself. 

“Oh yeah? I couldn’t tell,” he murmurs, clenching tighter until Miroku’s eyes are half-lidded and rolled back in his head, cheeks blooming red and his whole body quivering. “If you’re gonna beg for it, maybe you should work a little harder?” 

He keeps his hold a beat longer, because Miroku sure could made it look good to get halfway strangled, there was no denying that. 

When he lets go, Miroku curls forward and retches, goosebumps up his neck and his chest heaving like he's dying, which honestly Inuyasha doesn’t blame him for at this point. He strokes his claws lightly along the purple-dark prints already blooming on Miroku’s skin, almost soothing. 

But then Miroku spits sideways messily and looks up through sweat-slick hair with his lips curled up in that same smile, daring and dangerous. 

“ _Please_ fuck—my mouth—,” His hoarse words dig through each syllable like it’s a stroke on Inuyasha’s dick, aching and needy. “You piss—y b-bastard.”

A sharp bark of laughter, and Inuyasha moves to push the monk's back more firmly against the shredded tree trunk, half bracing and half restraining. He drags his thumb down those full lips until Miroku’s mouth hangs open and ready for him again, pressing the tip of one claw to the center of Miroku’s lower lip until a tiny bead of blood bubbles from the sensitive skin. Miroku hisses, his tongue flicking out to lick it away. 

Inuyasha’s breath hitches despite himself.

“That was weak, but I’ll take it,” he murmurs, and his teeth gleam like a promise. 

He stands, keeps one hand tight on Miroku’s jaw like an anchor, lines himself up. 

Miroku’s breathing is quick and shallow, but when Inuyasha slides forward this time he doesn’t bother with a warm-up, thrusting heavily down the monk’s throat before withdrawing halfway and rolling in again immediately. The noise Miroku makes goes right to Inuyasha’s balls, a sound hot and high and shot through with greed.

He sets a quick pace, rocking in as Miroku’s throat tightens around him, as deep as he can press, before pulling back and sliding forward again in with force that presses Miroku’s nose to his crotch and a jerking speed the monk struggles with vehement ambition to match. Miroku’s tongue presses flush to the base of his dick with every thrust, jolting a skittering sensation that starts in his groin and snaps brightly on nerve endings through his ass and legs down to his toes, curling in the dirt. 

Inuyasha watches Miroku’s throat open for him, and feels something darker than simple satisfaction rising in him at the stretch of Miroku’s lips and the wet, rapid choking noises of his breathing, something almost like possession. It’s a good feeling, heady and rich as it sweeps through him, like a particularly good swallow of saké or the scent Kagome’s hair in his nose when she rides on his back, her thighs always slippery with sweat under his palms. 

He flicks his thumb up to wipe the leaking wetness from under the monk’s lashes, and then brings his hand to his mouth, licking tangy salt from his claws and rocking his hips forward in an especially deep thrust. Miroku’s watery gaze follows his hand eagerly, trembling, and on the next smooth drive of Inuyasha’s cock down his throat a muffled whimper breaks his lips.

Inuyasha grunts in amusement. “Not a bad cocksucker for being— _mmhm_ —sworn to a life of purity, huh?”

On his knees and anything but pure at the moment, if he ever had been in his entire life, Miroku snorts. He huffs irritatedly, but when Inuyasha tightens the grip on his jaw, too obvious to not be a warning, Miroku only shudders, sucking harder, his cheeks hollowing. Behind him, his bound hands twist fitfully.

Inuyasha hasn’t felt like fucking someone’s mouth for a long time, but Miroku sure could make a convincing argument. Each time he slams forward—a bit rough, a bit wicked, toeing a line and edging over— Miroku leans into it like he wants to be used and then some, like he can’t get enough.

The rising pressure and slick slapping of his dick in Miroku’s throat seem like the best fucking thing he’s ever felt, from his moans rising on every thrust, noises higher and faster until it’s a constant whine that drags pleasure white-hot up Inuyasha’s spine.

“God— _ah fuck_ — you’re about to fuckin’ come, ain’t ya?” Inuyasha moans at a particularly brutal twist of his hips, and Miroku’s neck arches against the tree, spit flying from his mouth and his hips quivering, a dark stain slowly spreading across the front of his robes. 

Inuyasha can smell desire soaking the air peak sharply when Miroku comes, swift and rushing like the crest of an ocean wave, a broken cry in his throat vibrating up Inuyasha’s dick and dragging him along too. He has enough foresight to pull out from Miroku’s mouth, coming instead with a harsh groan onto Miroku’s face, the mess of it sticky on his lips, dripping down his neck, soddening the neckline of his robe. 

Miroku pitches forward, struggling for breath, and Inuyasha catches him, bracing one knee in the dirt. 

They stay like that for a few heaving moments, the evening hanging dewy and warm in the air like a sudden blanket of stillness broken only by their breath, humid and warm as they pant against each other.

He pulls back slightly once Miroku’s scent stops spiking, steadying into a rich, sated satisfaction rolling messily out on the air like an unraveling ball of string. Inuyasha curls his fingers back into Miroku’s hair almost like a caress, pulling his head up to meet his gaze. Miroku’s bangs are a smear across his forehead, cheeks wet and his eyes unfocused. 

“ _Damn_ —you like to get wrecked,” Inuyasha rasps, his own voice rough and his heart thudding hard against his ribs. The sweet rushing of his blood still pulls him into a fevered place in the back of his skull, like adrenaline egging him on to the wildest attack of a battle or the most vicious insult spit at an enemy; every risk he can never resist taking, ever. It tingles around the edge of his vision like static.

He leans in to run his tongue slowly up the pulse still throbbing under Miroku’s jaw, sweat-bitter and sour. “You always that good for a fuck?”

Miroku’s eyes finally manage to focus through their glaze, and he lifts an eyebrow wickedly, licks his lips. “Do you want to find out?”

When Inuyasha’s fangs catch the light as he grins, it’s never looked more demonic.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like after my "things that are deadly" fic Miroku needed a bit of reprieve, you know? A bit of one?
> 
> Is anyone even in the Inu fandom anymore? It deserves more love on Ao3. All the fic i find feels like old 2000s lemony inu/Kag and don't get me wrong I LOVE a classic Inu/kag, but I feel like...maybe...we need more variety here? Anyone have recs? 
> 
> Title is taken from the song "Hit The Back" by King Princess because they called it an 'anthem for bottoms everywhere' and we feeeeel that mentality.
> 
> All thoughts and comments are extra-super-duper appreciated! <3


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